


The Bouquet Sisters

by TheCourage0fStars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Family, Friendship, Marauders' Era, Tragedy, leading into the golden trio era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:18:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCourage0fStars/pseuds/TheCourage0fStars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Once there were three sisters, as close as any three could be. The eldest sister, who stood with utmost grace and poise, was always quick in social gatherings. She could manipulate any room with ease, and was never short on topics for small talk. The middle sister was a ball of fire and needle sharp wit. She could cut anyone down with a single word; she could just as easily raise them up again. The youngest sister was always the baby and could never quite reach the heights her sisters rose to. She was soft spoken and well mannered; she saw much more than she ever revealed. "Together forever." "And nothing is ever going to tear us apart."]</p>
<p>The three Evans sisters loved each other dearly, but something decidedly magical threw a spanner in the works. With their family fractured and the magical and muggle realms even more so, the youngest Evans sisters must fight for their rights and freedom in a world that tells them their blood is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bouquet Sisters

**Author's Note:**

> Please see end of chapter for notes.

I. The Bouquet Sisters 

Once there were three sisters, as close as any three could be. The eldest sister, who stood with utmost grace and poise, was always quick in social gatherings. She could manipulate any room with ease, and was never short on topics for small talk. The middle sister was a ball of fire and needle sharp wit. She could cut anyone down with a single word; she could just as easily raise them up again. The youngest sister was always the baby and could never quite reach the heights her sisters rose to. She was soft spoken and well mannered; she saw much more than she ever revealed.

The eldest sister was born on a particularly average day. The sun was just the right temperature, and only two clouds hovered over the hospital (just the right shade of white). Her mother pushed for precisely one hour, and gave birth at exactly noon in an orderly fashion. The eldest sister, then an only child, cried the perfect amount in her infancy and, from the start, would smile at anyone who came to visit her. It seemed that she would be the perfect hostess. A name had been picked out months in advanced after a flowering bush her mother was fond of; and so, the eldest sister came to be known as _Petunia_.

The middle sister was born as the winter frosts were beginning to melt. She was born in the hospital waiting room, having not given her mother enough time to reach a private room. She had a shock of red hair, so different from her older sister's. She cried much more than her sister had, but her beautiful green eyes absorbed the world with the spirit of a grown child. Her name had been planned for three weeks prior to her birth, and was named after the flowers that had adorned her mother's wedding bouquet; and so, the middle sister came to be known as _Lily_.

The youngest sister was born two weeks premature during the spring equinox. She had been a surprise to her parents with her conception (a mere seven months after Lily's birth). Her mother's labour was quick, and she only pushed for ten minutes. The youngest sister spent the first five minutes of her life in silence. It seemed that she too was surprised that she had been conceived. Her parents had spent nine months frantically trying to decide on a name to no avail. As such, the youngest sister spent three days being called 'Baby Girl Evans' by the thin name tag wrapped around her wrist. She was finally named after the tree her parents shared their first kiss under; and so, the youngest sister came to be known as _Holly_.

At the ages of three, one, and two weeks respectively, Mrs Evans introduced her daughters to friends and family as "her bunch of flowers". Petunia had scrunched her nose in distaste, Lily had babbled incoherently, and Holly had stared at the bright lights above her head.

Petunia never liked the nickname her mother had given her and her sisters. She thought the word "bunch" sounded far too plain, yet she couldn't think of a better word. It wasn't until her seventh birthday, one hot day in June, that she found a replacement.

She had awoken with a spring in her steps and a song in her heart. She had much to do before her friends arrived, and she couldn't wait until her sisters woke. Petunia always held the best birthday parties out of her whole class, even little Mary Dormer couldn't compete (try as she might). She had donned her beautiful yellow dress, the colour of sunshine, and danced to the kitchen. Her mother had stood in front of the sink, a collection of flowers in her hands as she cut the stems.

"Oh, Petunia!" The older woman had smiled at her daughter. "Happy Birthday, dear!"

Petunia had nodded graciously in thanks, but her gaze never wavered from the flowers.

"Oh, these?" Mrs Evans plopped the flowers into a vase. "Mrs Winters from next door sent them over. Isn't it a beautiful bouquet?"

The question went unanswered as Petunia mulled the word over in her head. "Bouquet" - the word tinkled like church bells. It was perfect, just the right mixture of ordinary and class.

Midway through the birthday celebrations, in the midst of a game of musical chairs, Petunia had secreted her sisters away to the base of a sycamore tree. Sunlight drifted through the gaps in the leaves and dappled across their skin as they unintentionally stood in height order. Petunia stood ramrod straight; the hem of her yellow dress fluttered around her knees. Lily had crossed her arms over her green dress; she looked older than her young years. Holly stared around her, lost in her own little world as she picked at a chocolate stain on her new blue dress.

"Listen," Petunia whispered as she huddled her sisters in closer. "I want to change our names."

Lily scrunched her face in confusion, her lips puckering in thought. "We can't just change our names, Tuney."

"No, silly," Petunia scoffed, "I want to change our nicknames."

"But why?"

"Because I – Holly!" Petunia suddenly snapped, noticing that her youngest sister hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention. Her gaze softened however when she noticed the frightened look her sister had given her; Holly didn't like being shouted at. "Pay attention. I don't want to be a 'bunch' of flowers; I want to be a 'bouquet' of flowers." She flourished her words with a smirk and a flick of her hair.

"A bouquet," Lily whispered in awe, her tongue twisting on the unfamiliar word and getting the pronunciation wrong; it sounded more like "boo-key". Holly never said a word.

"Do we all agree?" Petunia always copied the words she heard adults saying, trying to make herself sound more mature.

Lily nodded and outstretched her hand, palm face down. Petunia smiled, and her entire face lit up with happiness as she placed her hand on top of her sister's.

"Holly," Lily prompted, when the youngest failed to respond.

Holly's face twisted in curiosity at the strange action her sisters' were making but copied them nonetheless, her little hand landing on top of Petunia's.

"The bouquet sisters," Petunia smiled.

"Together forever," Lily continued.

"And nothing is ever going to tear us apart."

That was the day the 'Bouquet Sisters' were born, in an amalgamation of yellow and green and blue.

Petunia, whose heart would one day fill with bitterness, was the first to pull away. Lily, who would one day give her life for love, was the second to remove her hand. Holly, who would one day give up everything she ever held dear, was left with her hand hovering in the vacant air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes;
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Please feel free to let me know what you think. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
> 
> This work is also available on FanFiction under the pen name 'jarmrcc1'.


	2. (White) Lilac

II. (White) Lilac

  _"That purity and innocence thought to be part of childhood"_

 

Holly had always been a quiet child; out of her sisters, she had taken the longest to talk. So much so, that Mr and Mrs Evans had taken her to the doctor to see if there was a medical explanation. As such, they had been surprised when the doctor informed them that there was nothing wrong with Holly at all, and that she would talk when she was ready. Mrs Evans cried when Holly finally did speak.

This continued well into Holly's childhood. She would only speak when she felt like she had something important to say; otherwise she would remain silent and let her sisters speak for her. Petunia and Lily grew to know what Holly needed or wanted to say just by the subtle shift in her facial expressions. Eventually, Petunia and Lily could have entire conversations with their sister, and Holly would never have to say a word.

Holly's ability to convey meaning with just a look confused those who were not intimately acquainted with her. Teachers in particular had trouble with this, and often found it difficult to convince Holly to read out in class. When they did manage to convince her, she would speak more eloquently than the other children. This prompted one teacher to throw her hands in the air in exasperation.

Of course, Holly did not mind speaking in front of others. She was simply of the mind-set that if she did not have anything important to say, why should she speak at all? She had far more important things to think about than whether or not she was required to fill silences with mindless speech. She knew that she would never be like Petunia, the queen of small talk, nor would she ever be like Lily, the champion of debate, but she was quite content to be herself.

She often found that the smallest and simplest words were the most powerful.

(" _Are you really willing to abandon everything you are familiar with?"_

" _Yes."_

Ah, yes, the smallest words were always the most significant, even when speaking to one of the most powerful men she would ever meet. Though, she would not have to worry about this interaction until much later in her future.)

When Holly began to notice that she had some rather unusual talents, she remained quiet. She would sit in her bedroom late into the night, staring at the pages of an open book as she waited for them to flutter. By the time she was nine, she was able to turn every page with just her mind. She kept her abilities to herself, knowing that Petunia would never approve. However, she did allow herself to feel quietly smug that she wasn't as ordinary as everyone thought she was.

The first unusual incidence took place in November, 1966. The three sisters had been walking home from school hand in hand. Petunia led the way as they darted across a road, waving her thanks to the cars that had stopped to let the sisters go. Lily was chattering about the activities she had participated in at lunch while Petunia listened dutifully, an affectionate smile on her face. Holly, on the other hand, was staring at a squirrel trying to cross the road. It would dart halfway across before darting back to safety. Holly craned her neck around to continue watching the squirrel as the girls kept walking. The squirrel attempted to cross once more. Holly gasped just as the little creature was about to be hit by a car. Suddenly, as if an invisible force had pulled on its tail, the squirrel was yanked back to safety. The car drove on and the squirrel darted up a nearby tree to recover from its fright.

"Holly," Lily tugged on her hand and urged her sister to keep walking.

Holly soon forgot about the incident entirely.

The second incident took place on a dark Sunday evening in December of the same year. The dinner table was laden with food, and Mrs Evans had insisted on using the formal china. The three sisters had been forced into their best dresses, and their shoes polished till they could see their faces reflected back at them.

Petunia was in her element. She had slipped into hostess mode as soon as she had awoken that morning, doing anything she could to assist her mother. Lily had followed after Petunia dutifully to help her set the dining room table, and Holly had tottered after both of them.

It had been an unusual day for Holly; she had felt more and more uncomfortable as the day wore on, though she had simply put it down to an upset stomach. When she had expressed her concerns to her mother, the older woman had simply placed a kiss upon her daughter's forehead and told her that she would be fine. Yet, Holly could feel something building, like a ball of energy waiting to explode. She knew that the dinner party was a disaster waiting to happen.

Holly's gut instincts were almost correct. Though the 'incident' – as she would later come to call it – did occur, it was nowhere near the disaster she had been predicting.

As the Winters family arrived, with all of their usual hustle and bustle and a flurry of black coats, Holly managed to suppress the queasiness she was feeling. She was rather proud of herself when she managed to smile as Mrs Winters pinched her cheek and called her a "good girl".

Throughout the first and main course of their dinner, Holly fidgeted in her seat. Mrs Winters' perfume smelled too strongly of roses, Mr Evans' voice was too loud, and Mrs Evans' laugh was too harsh – a complete sensory overload. By the time the trifle had been served as their desert, everything had become too much for poor little Holly to deal with.

She had been overcome by the oddest sensation; like the sound of two stones striking together, or a knife scrapping against porcelain, Holly felt entirely unsettled. Her insides squirmed in discomfort and she was unsure if she wanted to scream or cry. To make matters worse, she hadn't been given a dessert spoon.

"Did you hear about that family on Spinner's End?" Mrs Evans leaned conspiratorially closer to Mrs Winters.

"-now if Heath had been elected-" Mr Winters' face had taken on a purple sheen as he recounted the recent Conservative loss.

Holly tried to catch either of her parents' attention, but both were engaged in their own private conversations. "Excuse me?" She tried but her voice was far too quiet.

"Did you hear about Vicky Greengrass? Well I heard from Tommy Jones, who heard from-not now Holly! Anyway, so he heard from-" Petunia shook off Holly's hand which had tugged at the sleeve of her oldest sister's dress.

"Excuse me?" The youngest Evans daughter tried again but Mrs Winters' laugh drowned her out.

Holly, being a sensible and wise five year old, knew that she would be in trouble if she left the table without permission. She also knew that her mother would throw a fit if she tried to eat the trifle without a spoon. Yet, the trifle was becoming runny and Petunia had a mere two spoon-fulls left and Holly had yet to start! It was a disaster for the five year old (who loved trifle more than anything else).

Mrs Winters laughed, Petunia whispered, Lilly giggled, Mr Winters scoffed, and Mr and Mrs Evans did not notice that their youngest was tired of being ignored.

Then the unusual happened and marked that cold day in December as the second incident of unusual talents displayed by little Holly Evans.

It started with Mrs Winters. Her wine glass shattered in her hand and her beautiful white and gold dress was drenched in red. The table was silent in shock. Then Mr Winters laughed with a _"what a tight grip you have, dear!"_

It was Mr Winters' turn. His glass too shattered in his hand. A shard nicked his thumb.

Then, all at once, the rest of the glasses around the table exploded. _Bang! Crash! Bang! Bang!_

To say that no one knew what to say or how to react would be an understatement.

Then, in the silence that followed such a peculiar incident, Holly reach across Petunia and stole her sister's dessert spoon.

It truly was a wonderful trifle.

-X-

For Lily Evans, the beginning of May was a wonderful time. The bottom of the garden bloomed with daisies and the grass grew a little greener. May meant that summer was just around the corner (with all the wonderful blue skies and beach trips any child could hope for). One May in particular was special for Lily.

It began on a Tuesday and with a freshly plucked daisy.

But first, it is important to note the difference between Lily and Holly. Lily was vivacious and adventurous, all gangly limbs and green eyes that sparkled with kindness. Holly was observant and cautious, all slender fingers and brown eyes that begged for understanding. Petunia is another matter for another time. Unlike Holly, Lily never forgot any of her displays of _talent_.

From a very young age, Lily Evans was a talker. She spoke to anyone who would listen (and even those who wouldn't) and always sought the best in people (even during the notorious shop-lifting incident of '65: _"maybe the bad man isn't so bad, mummy"_ ). Lily's ability to hold a conversation with anyone was the catalyst in her friendship with one Severus Snape of Spinner's End.

Severus Snape was a withdrawn boy with black hair that hung like curtains around his dour face. His hooked nose was sharp and to the point ( _"much like his personality"_ as Holly would one day point out), and he was always on his own. Severus was a serious child who watched life and other children from a distance. His mother always sent him from the house when his parents were fighting – Severus never knew where she expected him to go, yet he always found himself wandering towards the local park. There was one particular swing that Severus enjoyed very much indeed. Its chains did not creak when he sat down, and the seat had just the right amount of give. The tips of his toes could just reach the ground when he took a seat.

Lily Evans and her sisters often frequented the same park as Severus Snape, though they had only ever seen him in passing. As such, it was in this park that Lily Evans began to demonstrate her abilities.

It began on a Tuesday in May and with a freshly plucked daisy.

The park was unusually quiet for the time of day; only the Evans sisters and Severus Snape could be found. Lily played amongst the blooming daisies, Petunia swung on Severus' favourite swing, and Holly spun on the dizzying roundabout.

Severus had just arrived when he noticed the three girls and stopped in his tracks. He did not want to go home, for his parents were engaged in a battle of epic proportions, nor did he particularly want to play with the three already occupying the park.

As Severus remained hidden in the bushes surrounding the park and considering his options, Lily bent to pluck a particularly beautiful daisy. Her fingers began to tingle. Upon plucking it, the daisy seemed to shrink in size and shrivel in her hand. She had never seen any flower behave in such a way, and was on the verge of calling out to Petunia when the flower suddenly bloomed again. It grew and grew until it was twice the size it had been before and its white petals glowed in the sunlight. Then it shrivelled and shrank and turned to dust.

Petunia did not believe Lily when she was told of the abnormal daisy. Holly said nothing at all, but the twinkle in her eyes suggested that she knew much more than she let on.

As the girls departed for home that Tuesday evening, young Severus Snape had many things to consider: most important of all was that he had discovered someone with abilities just like his.

Lily Evans was a clever girl, if her report cards were anything to go by, and clever girls often consider all options before reaching conclusions. So little Lily took to the public library to learn more about the shrinking daisy, but small town libraries only have so many books on botany and the ones in the adult section were far too difficult to understand. Lily was left without a clue.

It was a simple coincidence that the next incident also occurred on a Tuesday.

It was a rainy Tuesday in June of the same year. The air was hot and sticky and the public library had no chance of combating the heat. The three sisters sat at a low round table; Petunia occupied a red chair, Lily a blue one, and Holly a yellow one, respectively. Petunia was bored and wanted to go home. The back of her school shirt clung to her body uncomfortably and she wanted nothing more than to change into something more suitable for the humid weather. Holly too wanted to leave and had been staring at the exit for more than ten minutes while she waited for Lily to finish. Lily was oblivious and was quite enjoying herself thank you very much.

This incident was so subtle and could have easily been mistaken for an accident if Lily had not been paying attention to the tingle in her fingers. In fact, it was that very tingle that confirmed to Lily that the following was not an accident at all.

"Let's go, Lily. We've spent enough time here." Petunia groaned.

"I'm not finished yet, Tuney."

"Please, Lily!"

"No."

"Holly wants to go. Don't you, Holly?"

Holly nodded her head in agreement, continuing to stare at the door.

"Five more minutes," said Lily.

"You said the same thing ten minutes ago," said Petunia petulantly.

"That was then and this is now."

"Lily!"

"Petunia!"

Lily's fingers began to tingle as her annoyance grew and, without warning and with an almighty crash, Petunia was inexplicably sprawled out on the floor and her chair toppled onto its side.

The tingle in Lily's fingers vanished.

Petunia lay dazed on the floor. Holly's lips pursed as she tried not to laugh. Lily's eyes widened as she rushed to her sister's side.

As it turned out, Petunia was perfectly fine and insisted that the chair had been wobbling from the moment that she had sat down. Lily knew that her sister was lying; her fingers had tingled in the same manner as they had done when she'd plucked the daisy. Yet, the practical explanation for Petunia's fall was a manufacturing flaw in the chair – but sometimes practical explanations aren't the only explanations.

-X-

It did not begin in November, December, May or June. It did not begin on a Tuesday. It did not begin on a rainy day, nor did it begin on a sunny day. In fact, it did not begin at all for Petunia Evans.

Petunia excelled in society: she was a gracious and polite child who respected her elders and was a leader amongst her peers. She commanded the envy of the other girls in her class and she was always perfectly polished and ready for whatever life had to throw at her. She achieved perfectly acceptable marks in all her classes and was especially proficient in Home Economics. She sang in the church choir and blushed whenever John, the altar boy, smiled at her. Petunia was positioned perfectly on the upper end of being average and that was the way she liked it.

Yet, Petunia was not average in all things as she did not have the same talents as her sisters.

Petunia always noticed when her sisters did something unusual. Nothing ever escaped her notice, whether it was Lily's fondness for plucking daisies, or Holly's little outbursts. So, when Lily decided to show Petunia what she could do with flowers, Petunia did not fail to notice that she could not do the same.

"You'll be able to do it one day, Tuney. Just wait and see," Lily had said.

Lily was wrong.

One warm night in July of the same year as the incident with the daisy, Petunia had snuck into the back garden of the Evans household. Wrapped up tight in her pink dressing gown and matching slippers, nine year old Petunia had crept through the darkness to the small patch of daisies that had forced their way through the grass at the bottom of the garden. Plucking an exceptionally pretty daisy, Petunia had placed it in the palm of her hand and waited with bated breath. She waited and she waited, then she waited some more. The flower never shrank, nor did it shrivel, in fact, it stayed exactly the same as it had been when it had been plucked. Petunia plucked a second daisy and waited. Then she plucked a third and fourth. She plucked and she plucked until no daisy was left undisturbed, yet nothing ever happened.

Petunia had returned to bed that night with tears in her eyes.

She waited one week before trying again in a different part of the garden. The result was the same. Eventually, Petunia decided that the problem was simply that she had been practising on the daisies in the garden and not the daisies in the park.

Petunia ventured to the park on her own one afternoon and spent four hours trying to make the daisies shrink and regrow. She never explained to her mother why she had returned from the park late for dinner and in floods of tears that day.

For months, Petunia silently hoped that she would gain abilities just like her sisters. She soon began to convince herself that everyday occurrences were the result of her growing abilities. She imagined that the kettle boiled quicker than it should have because she had willed it to. She pretended that she could tell the future right before it happened (but her so-called 'predictions' were simple things that anyone could have foretold: Mr Evans spilling his tea when he placed the cup too close to the edge of the coffee table, Mrs Winters pinching Holly's cheek in affection after Sunday Mass, or Mrs Evans burning the roast carrots because she had fallen asleep).

Petunia tried smashing glasses the way she suspected Holly had, and even tried to move objects the way she thought Holly had moved a squirrel, but her success was just the same as it had been with the daisies.

"Maybe you just haven't found out what your abilities are," reasoned Lily as the three girls sat in a circle in the garden.

"That must be it," Petunia had replied as she picked at the grass.

Holly, in turn, handed Petunia a friendship bracelet she had made. It consisted of yellow, green, and blue beads strung together on a thin piece of white string – Petunia thought it was rather lovely.

After that day, Petunia was determined to uncover her abilities. She spent her days trying to make objects move telepathically, she even tried to read minds once or twice, yet nothing ever changed. Her nights were spent sleeplessly, wondering why her sisters had been granted gifts from God but she had not. Was she not the sister who had better social skills? Was she not the oldest sister? Surely it was her right as the oldest to be granted wonderful gifts? Why should she be passed up for those younger than her? It wasn't fair.

Yet, life is rarely fair, and Petunia's lack of abilities only served to make her bitter towards her sisters.

The bouquet sisters were not as strong as they had once thought they were, and maybe something really could tear them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading.
> 
> Please feel free to leave some feedback, or head over to allthatpurpleprose.tumblr.com to let me know what you think.
> 
> This work is also available on FanFiction.net under the pen name jarmrcc1.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters other than my own. All rights go to the respective owners.
> 
> Side note: I plan for this story to follow the three sisters throughout both the marauders era and the golden trio era so this is going to be a long one! Also, this is a relatively short chapter as it is a prologue of sorts, so the following chapters will be longer.


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